


Rudhira

by Nothing_but_the_Rain



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Blood, Dubious Consent, M/M, Suturing, bad language and bad jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-17
Updated: 2013-02-17
Packaged: 2017-11-29 15:19:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 17,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/688444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nothing_but_the_Rain/pseuds/Nothing_but_the_Rain
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bookman in training... Ex-Exorcist... World's best whore...<br/>Tyki Mikks obsession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is was co-written with Jennypen http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jennypen/pseuds/Jennypen  
> The concept and main plot points are her's.  
> She wrote Lavi's POV and I wrote Tyki's.  
> It was never finished and this is only Tyki's half.  
> I decided to publish as I felt I’d written a few good words and wanted to share.
> 
> WARNING: Incomplete and likely to remain so.
> 
> Where there are double line breaks and notes in capitals is where Lavi’s POV’s would have been.

I have often wondered on days when my dark side is further from the surface what my life would be now had I not been destined to become one of the Noah.  
  
Married? Children? A cold shiver runs down my spine at the thought. More likely working down mines, drinking and playing poker with my colleagues; and visiting bawdy houses. I grin at this. It occurs to me that as a human I was not much different in my pleasures than I am as Tyki Mikk, Noah of Pleasure. Although now I am strong, powerful, wealthy, _other_. Evil? A matter of opinion. Destructive? Murderous? Maybe. Well there are many types of pleasure in this world.  
  
And yet there is one that is eluding me, something I want, that I have not yet been able to attain. Let me tell you the story... the rumour. There is a man, with flame red hair, a body to make you weep with desire and envy. But that can be said of many who peddle the same profession. What makes him special, or so it is said, it that he is perfectly adaptable to every taste of every client. Nothing is too far. Nothing too depraved. Or he can provide love, or companionship. He knows what you need, maybe even before you do. The perfect sexual toy...  
  
I’m half hard just thinking of the fun I could have if I acquired the Rudhira. And therein lays the problem. He is elusive. Expensive, yes, but that is no matter for me. But constantly moving; Madrid, London, Paris, Marrakesh, Turin, Venice... and so forth. Exclusive. Very difficult to locate, let alone book.  
  
I had only just heard the rumours of his existence, and had my curiosity deeply piqued when the rumours of his disappearance started.  
  
But today... today is a day to celebrate. He is back, and I have news of his location.  
  
I sip my wine, staring into the flames dancing in the fire place. Small hands slip over my eyes.  
  
“Uncle Tyki!” Road’s voice squeaks near my ear.  
  
“Road.” I say, trying to keep my irritation at the interruption of my thoughts from my voice. Sighing I take her arms and pull her into my lap. She giggles then turns her child’s face to look up at me, showing me her ancient eyes. She is the oldest of us in our current incarnation. The little girl, the massively powerful weaver of dreams. The Earl’s closest and favourite.  
  
“What were you thinking about? You were so distracted you didn’t hear me come in.” She blinks owlishly.  
  
“The Rudhira. The ultimate sexual pleasure. I think I have a lead on his whereabouts.”  
  
“Really!” she squeals, clapping her hands excitedly. “Ooo! I hope you find him Tyki; you’ve been looking for so long. And I do love it when you’re happy.”  
  
I smile at her indulgently, “What did you want Road? I was about to go out and follow up on this information.”  
  
“The Earl wanted to speak to you before you left. He’s in one of his moods,” she pulls a face, turning down the corners of her mouth. “The twins lost a lot of his Akuma in a battle with those pesky Exorcists today.”  
  
I pinch the bridge of my nose, sighing deeply. “And this is my problem because...?”  
Road opens her mouth to speak, but I hold up my gloved hand to forestall her. “Don’t answer that Road. I’ll go and see him directly.”  
  
She puts her arms around my neck and plants a kiss on my cheek, apparently delighted with my response, then skips on to the arm of my chair calling, “Lero!” before letting herself drop backwards, causing the golem umbrella to shriek in alarm. Propelling itself to be under Road in time to catch her. “Mistress Road, Lero!” it cries.  
  
“Tee hee hee hee! Let’s go back to the Earl Lero, Tyki will catch us up.”  
  
I watch her leave.  
  
There is a lot to embrace in my life as a Noah, but really and truly, this whole world domination thing is a bit monotonous and cliché. It quite frankly gets in the way of me enjoying myself in all my favourite ways. I do enjoy fighting. It’s a challenge, well depending on who I’m fighting with, mere humans are weak, and I can crush them like insects. Those Exorcists however can be a lot of fun, a full outing for my powers. But still, as long as Joyd is not too near being in control, taking pleasure in human company is more fun.  
I know we Noah are superior and yes we _should_ rule the world but it will be a dull world if all the humans are Akuma.  
  
I’ll be for the chop however if the Millennium Earl ever knows that I feel that way. I think he already suspects. It’s hardly my fault. I _am_ the Noah of _Pleasure_. It should be a given that I wouldn’t want to reduce the number of pleasures available to me.  
  
I’m not sure about Road either. I think she feels how divided I am.  
  
Standing, I place my glass on the mantelpiece and look in the mirror which hangs over it. I retie my black hair which has come loose where Road was jumping around on my lap. I nod once, happy with what I see. Then set off through our huge residence to the Earl’s “office”.  
  
I’m bubbling with excitement that finally I have some seemingly reliable evidence of not only the Rudhira’s continued existence (he seemingly disappeared for a few years, I feared he had been disposed of by an overly enthusiastic customer and I would never get to sample his delectable prowess) but also of his current location.  
  
Our home isn’t usual as I’m sure you can imagine. Rooms and corridors lead off at strange angles and unusual directions and what you will find in some could put a man off his dinner. Yes, it is opulent in most parts and we lack for nothing. Then there are Akuma drifting about our business.  
  
The Earl is indeed in his “office” or “the Telephone room” as we also call it. I take a seat as I wait for him to finish the call he is on.  
  
He is sat, rotund and bespectacled on his throne like chair. Lulu-bell is curled up on his lap. She opens one eye staring at me for a minute and then closes it again. Bitch. There’s a sister I care not for.  
  
The Earl finishes his call. “Ah! Tyki-pon!” he sings out.  
  
“My Lord. I was sorry to hear of the loss of your Akuma today.”  
  
His smile increases. A sure sign he is less than pleased about something.  
  
“Yes. The naughty Exorcists stopped our fun and destroyed my pets. Our losses have been high recently.” He sighs theatrically, looking down and shaking his head. He stands, causing a disgruntled Lulu-bell to jump quickly to the arm of the chair, and walks towards me; he is surprisingly light footed for such a big man. But hay he’s supernatural so it shouldn’t surprise me. The expectation must be a hangover from my human perceptions.  
He places his arm around my shoulders. I feel his power throng through me, like the air before a thunder storm breaks, and suppress a shiver. I wait for him to continue.  
  
“So, I need my handsome Lord Mikk,” he places emphasis on my ‘title’, “to go on a recruitment drive for me.” He pats my cheek; I raise a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “You should enjoy it. Your old home land, Portugal, Lisbon. The Archbishop is our man. He lives lavishly. Work him and find any potentials for my new pets. Make friends and influence people, sweep them off their feet. The usual modus operandi. You _will_ make me happy wont you, Tyki-pon.” It isn’t a question.  
  
I nearly laugh aloud; Lisbon was where I’d been told the Rudhira was and his client was apparently the man I was to meet with.  
  
I set off through a portal for the winter sun of Portugal almost immediately.  
  
                                    *************************************  
MEET ACCIDENTLILY IN STREET SCEINE  
                                    *************************************


	2. Chapter 2

I arrive at the archbishop’s palatial villa late in the evening. The staff great me, escorting me to my rooms, which have been prepared for my arrival, a bath has been run and a table laid for dinner. A bottle of champagne sits on ice for me. I turn a charming smile on the maid who escorted me, “I’m dining alone? Is the Archbishop unavailable?”  
  
“He sends his apologies, but he will be indisposed until the early hours.” She looks uncomfortable, blushing.  
  
I press her, “He is in the villa however; I saw his carriage was still in the couch house.”  
  
“Yes, he is, err... detained on private matters, err... in his private rooms.” She is visibly trembling now. “Ummm... the news of your visit arrived with us late and he was not able to cancel his arrangement.”  
  
“I see. Very well.” I turn away, dismissing her.  
  
Well this is interesting. The Earl had filled me in on the kind of pleasures the Archbishop enjoyed and it seems he was busy enjoying them now and if my informant is correct his toy maybe the Rudhira. I decide to have a little voyeuristic pre-dinner entertainment; locked doors prove no barrier to my powers so this should be easy. I leave my rooms and start investigating, aiming to find the private rooms of the Archbishop.  
  
                                    *************************************  
BREAK HERE FOR THE LAVI GETTING READY BIT  
                                   **************************************  
  
I phase my way through a few opulent guest rooms before finding my way into his holiness’ chambers. His bedchamber is richly furnished, vastly more lavish than the guest chambers. Thick piled carpets, velvet hangings around the four-poster, large inglenook fireplace with the fire ablaze. An unlit crystal chandelier hangs from the ceiling, collecting and refracting the light from a dozen lit candelabra’s placed around the room.  
  
A small wooden table holds a decanter of port and two glasses.  
  
The Archbishop is stood by the table in his full ceremonial attire, fussing over the lay of it, removing imaginary lint.  
  
I settle into an armchair in a dark corner; this looks like it could be fun. The fat pompous man is clearly awaiting someone he expects to intimately entertain. There is a knock at the door. A figure in a alter boy’s cowl enters on the Archbishops command.  
“Boy, come, kneel before me for you benediction.” Says the Archbishop, voice pitched to carry but with a slight tremor.  
  
The figure walks steadily towards the powerful man by the fire, and drops to one knee.  
  
It’s as if the world takes a breath and holds it.  
  
The figure slowly lowers the hood, looking up into the face of the Archbishop...  
  
My breath stops in my throat. Good holy fuck.  
  
This man, this whore, the person who is almost certainly the Rudhira... Is Lavi. The Exorcist. The Bookman’s apprentice. The redhead with the eye patch and one striking green eye who I had been aware of for the past two years.  
  
It would make some kind of sense for him to be the Rudhira. He and the Bookman appeared with the Order around the time the Rudhira disappeared from circulation; and I hadn’t seen either of them in any battle with the Exorcists for some time. Well... I don’t know whether to be amazed or irritated that I’ve had my greatest prize under my nose for so long and not known it.  
  
My attention is drawn sharply back to the room.  
  
“Boy, have you ever taken a man in your mouth?”  
  
“N-no, your Grace.” Lavi has modulated his voice; it is high and tremulous, every inch the virginal altar boy. I feel myself stir.  
  
“Would you like to try?” I can see him panting now; his hardness is visible even through the heaviness of his robes.  
  
“Yes your Grace.” He looks innocently up at the middle age man before him. The Archbishop lifts his vestments, under which he is of course naked. His manhood stands proud of his body and the shŏnen looks upon it as if it is the most wondrous thing he has seen, before taking his member into his mouth, and just to confirm his virginistic persona, he does so sloppily. The Archbishop moans and shudders. The Rudhira is of course clever, he ‘learns’ quickly, and before long he is sucking the man’s cock as if it is a penny lick on a hot day in summer.  
  
Gods I love being a voyeur. Almost as much as I love to fuck. And to watch the man I have lusted after for so long, without even knowing his face, with his lips on the cock of another man fills me with longing. My sex throbs and if discretion wasn’t called for I would just go join in and hang the consequences. However, this is a prize worth waiting for and I want to be alone to enjoy every moment of it. Also the Earl needs the Archbishop as a small wheel in his major plan and I expect I would not be very popular if I upset this relationship.  
  
“Enough.” The Archbishop gasps, removing himself from Lavi’s mouth. “Well done, boy, well done, you are a quick study. How did it feel for you?”  
  
“It... was interesting my Lord...” Lavi says shyly, “I felt some unknown sensation. But it was pleasant... I think I should like to experience it again sometime.”  
  
The Archbishop smiles beneficently at the still shrouded figure by his feet. “Now my son, I want you to come to the bed with me. Will you do so?” Lavi nods, and moves towards the grand four-poster. “Good. Now did you dress as requested?” Lavi nods again, solemnly, “Excellent. Remove your habit.”  
  
I notice that the boy positions himself where he will get best benefit from the light in that part of the room; this is all a game, a play, and this part like the big entrance; I wonder after all the time he has been doing this, does he even realise on a conscious level the small things, such as this, that he does? I suspect that beyond having great sexual skill, it is his skill with people, reading them, knowing just what they want to see, hear and feel, that make him the best there is at what he does.  
  
He removes his habit, slowly, bashfully, eyes lowered, letting it slide to the floor; and oh fuck, the Archbishop has had him dress in a corset, stockings, suspenders and frilly women’s knickers. It’s not really my thing, but this man could put on a hessian sack and make it look like haute couture. I’m so hard I may have to take myself in hand before long.  
  
The Archbishop had been stunned to silence for a moment at the sight of the lean, pale, defined body, wearing silk stockings so well. Clearing his throat he says “My son, you look delightful. Come here.” he extends a hand.  
  
Lavi walks slowly, closing the few paces between them. The Archbishop takes his hand; like a man would take a woman’s to help her from a carriage, with his other he cups Lavi’s jaw, looking him intently in the eye. He leans in kissing him deeply. When he breaks away he says, panting, “Get on the bed. On your hands and knees.” Lavi obliges. “Good now, I’m just going to secure you. Fear not.”  
“Yes your grace.” He sounds petrified, and I can see this stirs the Archbishop's dander even more.  
  
The man of God positions his toy on the bed, binding his ankles first with thick leather straps and then his wrists. Lavi is now at his mercy. Arse in the air, face forced into the plush covers of the bed. “This may sting a bit.” Says the Archbishop, a wicked grin splitting his face.  
  
“M...my lord?!” stammers the man tied to the bed.  
  
I can contain myself no longer. I palm my throbbing cock harder through the fabric of my dress trousers, stifling a moan.  
  
The Archbishop has removed his own vestments now and stands by the bed fully naked, his cock hard in front of him. He roughly pulls down the frilly knickers covering Lavi’s buttocks. He grasps himself with one hand and presses the blunt head of his manhood against Lavi’s rear. _Brace yourself lad, I’m coming in dry!_ I think, just as the man thrusts himself into Lavi’s arse. No lubrication. No preparation. I expect the strangled shriek I hear isn’t entirely fabricated.  
  
The Archbishop moans loudly, throwing back his head, before moving, setting up a rapid rhythm.  
  
“You...are...a good...son... of God.” Pants the older man, ramming his member into the shŏnen's arse over and over again. The boy is striking the perfect balance between hating it like a newbie abuse victim would and letting his body enjoy the experience. Balancing his responses between groans and shrieks. Tears and moans.  
  
Within very little time the man of God is crying his release to the room, buried balls deep in the red-haired whore on his bed. He has not obliged the other with the slightest stroke of the boy's cock, just taken his own pleasure throughout.  
  
Neither man says a word for some minutes, then the Archbishop pulls his semi-flaccid manhood from the younger man’s rear, he blesses him, making the Stations of the Cross over his still tied form. “In the name of the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost, Amen. Bless you my son.” He pours two glasses of port before untying Lavi’s bonds.  
  
Lavi moves slowly, yet sinuously to his feet, hiding the discomfort in his rear and accepts the proffered glass of port. He drinks it in two swallows.  
“That was a pleasure young man. We should do it again some time. Do you wish to stay this evening?”  
  
“Th-thank you, your Grace.” Lavi bows deeply. “However, my master requires me to return upon the hour.”  
  
“Yes of course. Well if you wish to use the facilities before you leave, feel free.” He stands, turning his back dismissing the Rudhira with this gesture.  
  
Lavi bows as he leaves the room, “Your Grace.”  
  
I decide this is the moment to make my exit and phase silently through the main wall, out into the cool night air.  
  
                        ***************************************  
LAVI’S POV AND BATH  
                        ***************************************


	3. Chapter 3

I walk through the familiar streets of Lisbon. I’m still hard and stunned from what I have discovered. I am aching with desire and I need relief. That the Rudhira is the Exorcist Lavi, the apprentice Bookman, is stunning, rewarding and frustrating news. That I had my ultimate pleasure under my nose for so long and didn’t know it is both thrilling and enraging. I could have had him at any moment in the last few years, but instead I focused my energy on Allen Walker.  
  
I walk past late night taverns where the sound of women’s laughter tumbles to the street from open windows. I know where I am headed. A certain tavern, one where the clientele is more up my alley.  
  
The interior is smoky and hot. I force my way to the bar and order a large measure of port. It has been a long time since I was in my “home country” and even longer since I frequented this tavern.  
  
I felt the looks on me as I entered, and now I feel hands slide over my arse. I turn haughtily from the bar, sipping my glass of port and giving out the 'approach me if you dare' signal.  
  
A few men approach, and then bottle it at the last moment, I keep drinking and watching. Eventually I catch the eye of a handsome young man, a local; dark wavy hair, tan skin even in winter and chocolate brown eyes.  
We flirt with meaningless words and glances, light touches of fingers over shirt sleeves and trouser legs. When we have finished our drinks he whispers in my ear, “Do you want to come outside with me?”  
  
I look into his eyes and smile my agreement.  
  
We move into the alley behind the tavern, it is dark and dank and has seen prior use. We kiss, deep and hard. It feels good; I’m the Noah of Pleasure, whomever I choose to play with will often feel good, but knowing I’m so close to the ultimate pleasure but yet so far makes this at best a stopgap.  I break the kiss and become demanding, “I want your mouth on me now.” I state.  
  
The young man is happy to acquiesce; he drops to his knees on the dirt floor by my feet and opening my trousers removes my leaking sex and sucks it into the hot wetness of his mouth. I moan low in my throat, tilting my head back against the cool brick of the wall behind me. I tangle my fingers into his thick dark silky hair, revelling in its texture. I grip his head tighter and fuck his mouth, unthinking, uncaring, enjoying the pleasure of the head of my cock rubbing the back of his throat. He moans and gags around my hardness; a few more thrusts and “Oh fuck...!” I cry as I come in his mouth, my release spilling down his throat and from the corners of his mouth.  
  
I milk myself dry in his mouth, before slipping from the heat and tucking myself away. “Thank you boy, that wasn’t bad.” I say before tipping my hat and phasing into the wall behind me.  
  
I feel more out of sorts than I have for many years. The encounter just moments ago has left me more frustrated than relieved. I make my way back towards the Archbishops villa, to think and sleep.  
  
                                    *************************************  
LAVI WALKING BACK THROUGH TOWN – SEEING DRUNK & FREEKED OUT MAN TYKI GOT HEAD FROM.  
                                    *************************************


	4. Chapter 4

When I get back to the Archbishops residence I call for fresh food to be served and request another bath be run.  
  
I eat, and drink a little of the champagne that is still chilled from earlier, and by the time I am sated the maid informs me that my bath is ready.  
I thank her and move through into the large adjoining bathroom. The bath is deep and the room is filled with scented steam. I remove my garments and slip into the water, letting out a contented sigh as the hot water relaxes my muscles.  
  
I sip my Champagne, enjoying the cold liquid bubbling down my throat, relaxing my muscles further.  
  
I have let my skin return to its normal grey, my stigmata stand proud on my forehead. I slip down under the water just the hand with the glass stays above the surface. When I emerge I wipe the water from my eyes, sweeping my hair back from my face.  
  
I relax back into the bath, eyes closed, drinking slowly...  
  
By Adam himself, I’ve found the Rudhira! I laugh aloud unable to contain my excitement. And it’s Lavi, the Exorcist, the Bookman’s apprentice. To think I mostly overlooked him for so long. My mind wonders over all the images of the redheaded man I have from our encounters, and I realise what a wonderful chameleon he is. A necessity of being a Bookman I suspect. How many personas, how many names has he had? That Lavi fit so perfectly the jovial, goofy, loyal Exorcist; the angry young warrior, so righteous; the quite studious Bookman in training; and now the perfect whore.  
  
I feel the blood flow to my sex as I remember the images from the evening.  
  
I’d come to find him. I had felt my blood sing that I had such a good lead on his whereabouts after so, so long, and it felt like a good omen. Now I know who he is, and where he will be for the next few days at least.  
  
The desire I have for him is possibly the most intense I have ever experienced. I feel it sing through my veins like a drug. I stroke my achingly hard sex, biting my lip and growling. The greatest whore was one desire, a passion I had harboured for years. Now, knowing his identity, knowing how much _more_ he really is. Oh fuck, I grunt, coming hot and urgent into the warm fragrant water. I laugh hoarsely at myself; I haven’t lost it that quickly since I was a _very_ young man.  
  
Not that I care, my obsession has grown, I want to possess The Rudhira, Lavi, The Bookman junior, whatever damn name is his at the moment. I want every inch of pleasure I can drain from him, and then more.  
  
I won’t rest until I get what I want.  
I _always_ get what I want.  
  
                                    ****************************************  
LAVI: GET CALLED OUT BY PANDA AND GO TO PARTY NEXT DAY  
                                    ****************************************


	5. Chapter 5

I sleep late, and then spend the afternoon drifting around Lisbon, still so familiar to me. I walk through paved squares with splashing fountains, and small court yards, with pots full of geraniums; all around are white walled red roofed houses, and people going about their business, so blissfully unaware of the war raging about them, or the wolf that walks past them looking so dapper.  
  
I spend some time strolling by the harbour, enjoying the scent of the sea on the breeze that blows in, promising a storm later.  
  
Dusk is falling as I walk back to the Villa and it is all lit up for the party that will be held there in an hour. A grand party for all the gentry of Lisbon and the surrounding areas. With a very select behind the scenes party for very select gentlemen. For which I know the Archbishop has hired Lavi. The ultimate show of riches – provide your guests with the Rudhira for a whole night to do as they please with.  
  
I have work to do of course, for the Earl, however both can be accomplished while pursuing my ends, and well, getting my end away.  
  
I take my time, bathing and changing, making sure I am every inch the rich, handsome, playboy that I am expected to be; alluring, sensual, mysterious.  
  
The ballroom is warm from the press of bodies, the blazing fire and the many candles on the glittering chandeliers. The tables are laid with a huge variety of food and unobtrusive servants offer wine and Champaign. Musicians play, and people are dancing, laughing and chatting. I wend my way through the throng of people, renewing old acquaintances, catching eyes and stirring gossip. When I feel I have done all I can for the Earl with this circle of guests I catch the eye of the maid from the previous evening.  
  
“Where is his Grace, and the _other_ party?” I say with a seductive smile.  
She nods, “This way Lord Mikk; he is expecting your company.” And leads me through a curtain, down a secluded wood panelled hall, to a door. “I’ll leave you here my Lord; I’m not permitted to open that door.” She curtsies, turns and walks rapidly down the hall, boots clicking on the black and white tiles.  
I open the double wooden doors and step into a warm, softly lit, large room. Candles and oil lamps are placed strategically, casting enough light to see clearly by yet without overly illuminating anyone.  
  
Groups of men stand, sit and lounge around in various states of undress, chatting, drinking, smoking, touching, kissing...  
  
The air is heavy with smoke and scented with musky incense and the cloying scent of opium.  
  
I expect on a normal day the inglenook fireplace, which takes up one third of one wall, would dominate the room.  
  
Not tonight.  
  
Tonight the eye could only be drawn to one thing.  
  
The Rudhira.  
  
In the centre of the room on a raised platform is an x-shaped cross. Bound to the cross is Lavi. He is naked, except for a hood covering his face. It goes without saying the Archbishop is a man who tends toward the dramatic. I would have known this was the Rudhira even if I hadn’t of discovered his identity last night, as the Archbishop had publicised this booking as a demonstration of his wealth and power. In fact it was his bragging that had given me the lead on the Rudhira, why I had intended to visit Lisbon, visiting under the Earl’s orders just makes life all the more convenient.  
  
I am sure it is Lavi as his lean pale body, with its well defined musculature, its scars and trail of fine red hair leading down to his beautiful cock are indelibly burned on my memory, even though they were mostly covered the night before. Now I get to see him in all his glory.  
  
Apart from that there is the tattoo around his hips, groin and sacrum. The tattoo that reads in Urdu: Rudhira. It could only be the same person.  
  
I feel my blood sing at his proximity, my cock hardening immediately. I feel dizzy, high, and have to draw a steadying breath. I laugh internally at my teenage responses.  
  
He has already been used a little tonight, although the party is barely underway, judging from the stripes of whip marks on him. As if to prove a point a cat-o-nine-tails is laid carelessly on the floor by his feet.  
  
I’m intercepted by our host himself as I walk into the room.  
  
“Lord Mikk. Thank you for coming. We are always happy to welcome the Earl’s family.” He lifts and kisses my gloved knuckles as if I were a man of God not he. “I hope this party is to your satisfaction. Help yourself to everything and anything. I hope that we can further the Earl’s cause tonight.” With another sycophantic smile he turns away to other guests.  
  
I summon one of the discreet male servants loitering by the walls, and he brings me a drink. Lighting a cigarette I make a casual circuit of the room talking, flirting, manipulating, convincing. Deciding who will aid the Earl financially, and those who can provide more practical goods – humans to make Akuma.  
  
After an hour, maybe more, I turn my full attention back to Lavi – Oh come now, all work and no play wouldn’t make me much of a Noah of Pleasure now would it? – He is still as he was; beautiful body on full display. He shows no sign of tiring nor of pain, although I know full well that having his arms held like that for so long would be very painful by now.  
  
Some submissive rich brat is on his knees hungrily throating Lavi’s cock; what he lacks in experience he is making up for in enthusiasm; yet that perfect whore is trembling with pleasure – feigned? Who knows, but likely, like I said, perfect whore, perfectly trained, perfectly adaptable, and his body... perfectly responsive. You can’t be the best gigolo in the known world if you can’t get a cock stand at the drop of a hat.  
  
I walk around him. Surveying, assessing. Such a delicious body. So well maintained. Only marred by the tattoo and a few scars. Yet knowing what I now do, the scars only add to my arousal - undoubtedly, several of them were my doing.  
  
His breath is coming in needy little pants from beneath the hood; I chuckle at the delighted look on the face of the man sucking on him.  
  
Removing my gloves I slowly reach out to touch the Rudhira’s hip. His head snaps round to face me, as if he can actually see. I hold my hand still for a moment, just watching him, before gently trailing my fingers over his toned, defined abdomen. The sensation that lances up my arm at this contact is electric and actually painful. I draw in a sharp breath and pull my hand away as if burned. _Innocence! What the..?_ I place my hand lightly back on his abdomen, moving it slowly down towards the tattoo. Fire flames up my arm again. _The innocence is in the tattoo. Cleaver, cleaver old man,_ I think. I wonder if Lavi even knows. Well this means that I probably couldn’t fuck him. I could do most everything, but I doubt I would be able to fuck him.  
I return my attentions to mapping his skin, feeling where the affects of innocence spread, where they affect me. I move my hand up over his pecks, ghosting over his nipples, trailing though the light hair under his raised arms. Stepping behind the cross I run my nails over the plains of his back; on his shoulders he has a light smattering of freckles. This makes a gentle smile rise to my lips and I feel my movements falter, unsure of this reaction. I dismiss it in a heartbeat and continue. Sliding one hand around to his chest again, lightly brushing his nipples. The other hand I slip to his hip, the burn from the innocence tolerable; I lean my face towards his shoulder and with my nose just brushing his skin I inhale his scent; he smells delicious, warm and vital. He smells so fucking good that I feel Joid stir and I can see myself ripping him from the restraints and fucking him to a pulp on the dais innocence or no.  
  
I chuckle, mentally shaking myself and plant a breath of a kiss on his bare shoulder. I don’t want to experience the ultimate pleasure here with all these people, nor so briefly. I want to take all the time in the world and I want him to myself; for myself. I walk away to the fire, and recline on a chaise longue, signalling for another glass of red, and catching the eye of a handsome young fop.  
  
Another hour passes. The fop and I fuck; he’s not bad. I know he enjoyed himself. All the while I keep my eyes on the shŏnen. He is played with some more, mostly whipped. A few drunken revellers try to lift the hood and are immediately stopped by the Archbishop. There are other whores here, male and female; he has catered to many tastes; so although he is the highlight there are other sources of entertainment, other outlets for people’s quirks and fetishes. Lavi is all I see however. The other painted purveyors of pleasure hold no interest for me.  
  
I relax, sprawled elegant and naked on the couch by the fire, basking in its heat, drinking wine and smoking and barely paying attention to the animated babble of the rich boy sitting on the floor in front of me, casually resting a hand on my thigh. Why do they always assume that I want to hear about them, their lives and their thoughts, just because we had sex? It’s tiring and dull. But I nod in the appropriate places, interjecting when needed to make it seem like I am taking it all in, as this man is rich enough to help finance the war. I snort at the comparison of the Rudhira, the perfect whore and myself, the Earl’s whore. What is he thinking about while he makes his clients feel special?  
  
I chose this seat specifically as I am directly in front of the cross holding Lavi, if he were not hooded he would have an unimpeded view of me. As if reading my mind the Archbishop steps on to the dais to stand by the cross, gathering our attention by his silence and presence, like a patient school master, before saying, “I can see you are all enjoying yourselves now the party is truly underway. So now I will unveil and untie the main attraction for you this night. The Rudhira!” With a flourish he removes the hood and Lavi is revealed attempting not to squint in the sudden brightness of the soft light.  
  
The Archbishop moves to untie him and I’m not sure if he even notices because, as planned, I’m the first thing he sees. Naked, post-coitally flushed, lithe and handsome. His face is a study in surprise, eyes wide and his pretty mouth making a perfect O. I notice his eyes flicker over my body, lingering for a moment on my yard. I smile widely at him and wink. Then salute him with my glass and drink a long swallow of the rich red wine, keeping my eyes on his over the rim of the glass.  
  
                        **************************************************  
LAVI – END OF PARTY GANGBANG – PASSING OUT.  
                        **************************************************


	6. Chapter 6

Once the last of the revellers leave I move silently back into the room. They have left Lavi where he fell; unconscious and bleeding on the dais. I can’t leave him damaged like this. What if he bled to death? Then I would never be able to have him (and have him, and have him) until I got bored of him.  
  
Squatting beside his crumpled form, I sweep the hair from his eye and he doesn’t even stir. His breathing is laboured and I suspect he has broken ribs. He has multiple wounds on his body, mostly minor. It’s the pooling of blood beneath his hips and thighs that’s of most concern.  
  
I feel for the pulse at his throat and it flutters under my fingertips. I sigh and tilt my head to the side. Why do I want to help someone; repair someone? I normally do the breaking not the fixing.  
  
Well because I want the pleasure he can offer obviously, and if he dies then I won’t get what I want. I lift his limp form easily and cradling him in my arms carry him to a spare guest room. I lay him gently on the bed and go to run him a bath.  
  
I tisk looking down at my now ruined shirt, drenched in blood, and I feel a flutter in my chest as I calculate how much he must have lost.  
  
Once the bath is run, warm and deep, I carry him to it and totally submerse him, using my power to keep water away from his mouth and nose. He does stir slightly now yet it’s a mere groan and weak shifting of limbs. Lifting his head above the water again I create dark matter fields to support his body while I soap him down, cleaning him, checking the severity of the many wounds.  
  
He has maybe three broken ribs, but his lungs are intact. The bleeding from cigarette burns, and lacerations from blades and whips is already slowing. Yet the bleeding from his abused hole is still perfuse staining the clear water red.  
  
Once he is clean of men’s juices, sweat and blood, I lift him out of the water and dry him. Then, keeping him suspended by dark matter fields, I assess the damage to his rear.  
The blood has slowed, even so it still drips steadily on to the tiled floor. I position him so I can see the tear. His anus is gaping the tissue ripped right into the perineum. I think, dispassionately, that it was probably when those two fat middle aged men decided to double fuck him. They were in no way gentle about it.  
  
After seeing that this evening I had found the maid and sequestered the suturing kit a house like this keeps for emergencies. I have laid out needle, thread and cloth. I start the process of stitching him back together. All so he can be ruined another night. He stirs once or twice as I start, so I drip some of the kits laudanum into the corner of his mouth and he rests easy.  
  
Now, I hear what you are thinking, how do I know how to suture? Well, it was a useful skill in the mines, one I learnt, one I remember.  
  
Once I am complete I wash him down once more, dry him and bandage his ribs, then place him under the covers. The sigh he gives is almost content. The fire is banked and turning out heat. He is no longer bleeding and his breathing is easier. I spend some time just sitting on the edge of the bed watching him.  
  
As the sky starts to lighten behind the curtains I shake myself and make to retire. On impulse I manifest a tease and tell it to stay beside him.  
  
Then I leave. I need sleep too.  
  
                                    ********************************************  
LAVI – NEXT MORNING & PANDA  
                                    ********************************************


	7. Chapter 7

Over the next few days I conclude the Earl’s business in Lisbon; all the while making sure I know where the Rudhira is. The old Bookman has been looking after him in their lodgings, and he is making a very rapid recovery, therefore I don’t expect it will be long before they move on.  
  
Before I leave for home I inform a tease to stay with him, out of sight, so I can always know his location; I can’t lose him again.  
  
                                    ********************************************  
  
I’m pacing through my rooms. Restless, so restless. I knew I had to come home, had to check in, to keep the Earl informed of business. He gets snippy when I go A.W.O.L.  
  
He was happy with my work in Lisbon and a week ago that would have pleased me greatly, but not now, now I’m obsessed, all I can think of is getting back to _him._ Given the rate he was healing before I left I expect him to be recovered by the time I next see him.  
  
I had intended to spend only a little time at home before following him to his new location. Unfortunately the Earl has called a “family dinner”, for all intents and purposes a war council, and it isn’t until this evening.  
  
I stride across the room and flop down on the bed, frustrated.  
  
I have just lit a cigarette to pass the time when there is a knock at the door.  
  
“Come.”  
  
“Brother.” Sheryl slinks into the room and sits on the edge of my bed.  
  
“Sheryl.”  
  
“How was Lisbon?”  
  
“Delightful.” I grin wickedly, raising my eyebrows. “I finally found the Rudhira.” For some reason I stop myself from giving his identity.  
  
“Wonderful! How wonderful!” He clasps his hands together, an inane smile on his face. “And was he as good as he was advertised to be?”  
  
I pull a wry face. “Unfortunately his services were engaged by my host, an Archbishop being used by our Lord. He and his other guests kept him very busy. When I have him I want him all to myself.” The last I say with a ferocity that surprises me. Looking my brother in the eye as I flick my tongue out to wet my lips.  
  
He swallows. “Yes.” He says slowly. “Why share a thing you’ve wanted for so long. Why rush it.” He takes my cigarette from me and inhales.  
  
I smile darkly “Exactly.”  
  
                                    ************************************  
The “dinner” when we finally had it was uneventful.  
  
A general; _thanks to Tyki-pon we will have recovered from the losses made by the twins within a few weeks_ , then a little about our plans; _make Akuma, destroy the church, create the fall of heaven, world domination_... you know, the usual.  
  
I nearly drifted off at one point but Sheryl kicked me hard in the ankle.  
  
When it’s over I try not to look too keen to make my exit, but all I can think is _find Lavi, follow Lavi, and work out how best to get him._ Hire him? Steal him? Hiring would be difficult as I know there is a vetting process, but I’m sure there is a way around it. Of course kidnap is straight forward but for some reason doesn’t appeal to me in this case. It feels too...too...I, I can’t find the word. Impersonal? For fuck/Adam’s sake, since when do I care about being personal. This obsession is getting strange. I put it down to being so close to having something I’ve wanted for so long. To having already touched his skin, to have tasted him on my lips. A tremor of desire rushes through me, and it is so strong that for a moment that I can’t breathe.  
  
Composing myself I finish dressing for my journey and gathering all I’ll need, leave.  
  
                                    ***********************************  
  
I follow my Tease to Rome, to a small private home set around a court yard, near Vatican City, the proximity of that seat of hypocrisy sets my nerves on end. An ancient olive tree and a small tinkling fountain occupy the centre of the court yard crating a cool soothing oasis.  
Seated on cushions in a shaft of sunlight is the object of my desires, Lavi. Reading. There is a strange fluttering within me, a mixture of fear and desire which creates a sucking vacuum in my chest as if my stomach has just dropped into my shoes. I feel in equal measure the urge to step forward and the urge to run, which consequently leaves me stationary and confused.  
  
I mentally shake myself, just as the redhead stands and stretches. I make a spur of the moment that I’ll following him, now, right now, watch everything he does, who he meets, glean some insight into him. I had intended to learn his location and follow his master, work out how their business is conducted; but just now, seeing him, I don’t want him out of my sight.  
  
He seems fully healed, he moves gracefully again, no bruises are visible on the skin I can see.  
  
He is wearing a loose fitting blue shirt and black waistcoat and black fitted trousers. His hair is unadorned and as always the eye patch is in place. I never gave it much thought before. Just noted it in passing. Now I want to know all about it. What’s under it? Is it missing? If he lost it, how? When? Accident? Punishment? Torture? Work? Or is it something else? I have learnt in my years as a Noah to expect the unexpected even under the apparently usual.  
  
As he is stepping out of the door the old man walks out of a side room.  
  
“Where are you going boy?”  
  
“Out. I’m bored senseless cooped up in here.”  
  
The old man sighs. “Very well. I have an errand for you to run. Take this back to Master Sabatini.” He produces a book from the sleeve of his tunic and hands it to Lavi. “Remember the rules. Don’t get lost. Oh, and be back by six. You have a client tonight, you will need to prepare.”  
  
“Oh...” a raised brow. Any query is silenced by a look from the old man. “...Fine. Later, gramps.” He nods his head and steps out into the unseasonably mild Italian morning.  
  
                                    ***********************************  
  
I follow him silently and at times invisibly. I am in my human appearance wearing unexceptional clothes. It is so easy to hide when you can become intangible but frankly he seems so preoccupied that I think I could walk through his line of sight and he wouldn’t notice me.  
  
It seems he knows the city well for all the short time they have been here. With the transiency that comes with both his life as a whore and as a Bookman he has probably been to Rome many times. He carries the tome the Bookman gave him, tenderly, cradled under one arm.  
  
Lavi walks along the side of Vatican City eventually crossing Piazza San Pietro the large open square before the Vatican, and turning down Borgo Spirito to walk to the Tiber. He crosses the river via the Ponte Vitt Eman II; the bridge is busy with people. He stops half way over and leans on the parapet watching the glint of the sun on the water. His aura is so melancholic that I feel drawn to... I don’t even know what. I feel my hand lift towards him and drop it back to my side, a frown creasing my forehead.  
He sighs and looks at the sky and continues on his way.  
  
He walks into the city proper, with its long and bloody history, it wonderful and varied architecture, turning down progressively narrow streets he comes to a antiquarian book sellers, where he returns the book with the minimal of fuss. I expected him to spend more time there given his main calling as a Bookman; however he just gives the proprietor the book, exchanges a few words (in Italian) on the health of his master and takes his leave.  
Once back on the street he takes his pace down to a steady stroll and meanders through the city looking at buildings and statues, plaques and fountains.  
  
Around midday he finds a small, busy cafe and stops to order coffee and a lunch of salami, bread and olives. I notice the young native waiter eyeing him appreciatively as he takes his order, and feel a feral growl build in my throat.  
  
As he eats, slowly, contemplatively, I watch every leisurely lick of lips, every suck of his delicate fingers to remove the oil from the olives, tongue darting out to flick all the way up one finger as a rouge drizzle of oil runs all the way down to his knuckle.  
  
I’m seated not far from him, at an adjacent cafe, I have ordered a strong coffee but no food and I find I am leaning forward in my seat, lips parted. He is a work of art but the sadness that hangs around him is almost palpable even from here. I feel an ache in my chest; a trickling warmth that I haven’t experienced for as long as I remember.  
  
He has finished his meal and is sipping his coffee, watching the human traffic in the plaza. The drift of wealthy and well dresses on a Sunday stroll, the dart of servants running errands, the quick dull absence of a pick pocket at work. He takes it all in, but his mind isn’t really here or even now.  
  
A middle aged man at the next table attempts to strike up conversation with him and is politely but firmly rebuffed. I smile.  
  
  
Next our walk takes us to the Coliseum. Obviously it is a favourite place as he wonders around trailing his fingers over the stonework with a rapt expression on his face as if he is recalling the history of this place; and he probably is, but a history that only the Bookman line will really know.  
After an hour of this we leave heading back into the city. He has a greater sense of urgency in his direction and pace now. We arrive at a busy collection of shops and enter a popular bookshop, ladies and gentlemen of some wealth are perusing the titles and talking loudly of their own collections, in a way that suggests they are recently elevated to wealth.  
It is clear Lavi has been here before and he heads straight to the rear of the shop where it is quieter, and choosing quickly from the number of titles there he finds a nook out of sight of most of the customers and starts to devour the contents, a mildly credulous and bemused expression on his face.  
  
I carefully move to the shelf he chose from and have to choke back a laugh. Romance! Love stories for the bored wives of the rich of Rome! Why in the name of Adam would he be reading these?  
  
He stays there until the shop darkens, and in that time reads three of the retched things and all the while his expression grows more bewildered, which, strangely, is a good look on him.  
  
Realising that it is getting late he folds himself from his secluded spot sighing and stretching.  
  
Hells he is just perfection itself.  
  
We reach their lodgings just as the clocks chime six and he proceeds dutifully preparing himself. Washing and dressing in a simple well cut suit.  
  
At seven a carriage arrives to collect him for his client.  
  
I follow, moving through the air above until we reach the destination, a modest but well maintained house on the bank of the Tiber.  
  
He bids the Bookman good evening saying he will be back by dawn if not before and pulls the bell. The door is answered by a butler and Lavi enters. I gain access through the wall. He is ushered to an interior door by the butler, who bows and leaves him. He steps in and the door closes. I place my ear to the aged dark wood and listen to his sharp intake of breath.  
  
                                    **************************************  
LAVI KOMUI CONVERSATION  
                                    **************************************


	8. Chapter 8

I am surprised at what I hear; a surprise born mostly of the tone of Lavi’s voice, one I’ve not heard in all the time I have watched him, a softness, a yearning; as much as I am at the identity of his client.  
  
Once I recover from my initial disbelief I move silently through plaster and brick at the back of the room, to a dark secluded corner of the large, softly lit room where, as if placed for my comfort, there is an armchair, I settle myself and return my attention to the shŏnen and his trick.  
  
The two men still stand apart, bathed in the light of the fire. The atmosphere between them is so very, very charged, as if a storm was brewing in the space separating them.  
  
I hold myself tense, hardly breathing, watching, waiting for one of them to move, to breach the gulf between them. Hoping that Lavi will turn and leave, even when he looks as though he has taken root in the boards of the floor.  
  
It is Komui who in the end breaks the stand-off, moving suddenly, quickly across the lavish rug, scooping Lavi into his arms, clasping him tight as if _he_ were to save him from drowning. The taller man buries his face into the crook of Lavi’s neck, inhaling. Lavi falters for a moment, eyes wide and an almost panicked look on his face, arms stiff by his sides; but slowly he allows them to rise and returns the embrace, resting his forehead on Komui’s shoulder.  
  
I’m doing my best to ignore the part of me that wants to tear Komui Lee from Lavi and rip his still beating heart from his chest. I can feel a quiver from Joyd as he stirs in his enforced slumber, cracking one eye open to see what’s got the “white” half so riled. I concentrate on the thought of watching the Rudhira at work again, watching him pleasing, and maybe even truly being pleased in this instance. I think of his skin, his muscles, the curve and dip of his spine, the scars and the perfection of him. Of his lips parted in a sigh of lust, eye lidded, beautiful red hair tumbling over his face.  
  
Joyd settles. My breathing settles. My cock stirs, and I feel a grin creep on to my face.  
  
Komui captures Lavi’s chin, tilting it so their eyes meet. “Lavi...” He breaths, a sigh of a name, filled with need, with longing.  
  
Lavi shivers gently, a faint quiver of muscles at the sound of his name. “Komui...” The purple haired man brings his lips down, stealing his own name from Lavi’s mouth. The kiss translates all the longing his voice had suggested. Slow to start, firm and deep, building, ever building.  
Lavi’s hands move tentatively for a man so used to such encounters, so practiced in his strokes, one to Komui’s lower back, the other to tangle gently in the hair at the nape of his neck.  
  
After an age they break the kiss. “I missed you, Lavi.”  
  
He takes the younger man’s hand and leads him to the couch before the fire, gesturing for him to sit, as he pours them both wine.  
  
I am still confused as to the relationship between them, Lavi looks discomforted for such a practiced whore. Surely he is used to clients falling in love with him, which Komui plainly is. The old Bookman may not want any contact between them and the order but he’s not here. Is it possible that Lavi feels too?  
  
Komui sits on the floor one shoulder lent against the couch, looking up at Lavi. They raise their glasses to each other and drink, Lavi deeply. His professional persona has been recovered once he has finished his glass and he starts to question Komui about the Order. The older man sets his glass down and places two fingers on Lavi’s lips.  
  
“Please, not now. They, _your friends_ , are well, but you know I can’t talk about the war. Not with you, not anymore.”  
  
Lavi takes the other man’s hand and cups it against his own cheek. “...I know, Komui, I'm sorry..” he allows a smile to spread over his face, and then places a kiss on the centre of Komui’s palm. “I'm glad you're here. I've... Fuck, Komui, I've missed you. It must've taken you so long to get here.”  
  
“I told you I would do almost anything for you. I meant it.”  
  
Lavi leans forward to silence Komui with a kiss, the passion is more obvious this time and soon they are panting, hands running over clothes, touching the others form beneath.  
Komui is the one to break it once again, this time he forces Lavi back on to the couch and slowly undresses him, divesting him of each item with care and longing, savouring the sight reviled to him, as if burning it on his memory; just as I had done while he was restrained at the Archbishops party.  
  
Once naked Lavi moves to start removing Komui’s clothing. He stops him with a look and a small shake of the head and removes his own clothes, seductively, keeping his eyes on Lavi throughout, until he stands unclad and silhouetted against the fire. I am pleasantly surprised by the contours of the man’s body, lean and firm considering he is a scientist not a warrior.  
  
Komui kneels between Lavi’s thighs, and taking his face in his hands kisses him deeply; he moves his lips down, kissing a line from the angle of his jaw to the line of his clavicle. Lavi tips his head back against the cushions, a small sigh escaping him.  
  
He lets out a breathy gasp as Komui’s mouth meets his nipple, sucking it in, while his fingers work the other. Lavi’s hands run over Komui’s shoulders and neck as he arches from the pleasure of Komui’s mouth on him.  
  
They are both hard and now so am I. I palm my hardness through the fabric of my trousers, eager to watch more. Komui moves ever lower, until his nose is buried in the red hair around Lavi’s cock, nuzzling, nudging, teasing.  
  
Lavi’s head is thrown back; his hands grip the fabric of the couch. “Komui.” He gasps. “Please...”  
  
The older man lowers his head further and gently sucks Lavi’s balls into his mouth, hand wrapping around his cock, stroking slowly. Lavi moans in earnest at this, his hands tangling in Komui’s rich purple hair.  
  
Komui licks a stripe up the underside of the redhead’s cock, as he reaches the top he fixes his eyes on Lavi’s over the top of his glasses, locking their gazes as he laps at the pearlescent beads at the tip, before moving his mouth down, hand still stroking as he works his lips and tongue over Lavi’s hard sex. The motion speaks of practice, of familiarity. Komui knows how to please this man, actually please him, so he can take some pleasure that is truly for him; not just to boost the ego of the paying party.  
  
I imagine my mouth on him. Tasting him on _my_ tongue, his seed filling _my_ mouth. I will admit this kind of fantasizing normally finds me in the reverse of this, but the sight of him, the sound of him like this, spread out and moaning... I want to make him feel like that; only better, more so. I stifle a moan as I palm myself again.  
  
“Komui...Komui...Komui...” Lavi breaths like a mantra.  
  
The man’s ministrations have become urgent, head and hand moving fast, cheeks hollow as he sucks and hums around the hardness filling his mouth.  
  
“Fuck...” Lavi moans; he pulls on Komui’s hair, dragging him off his cock. “God,” he pants, “kiss me.” Hands on either side of Komui’s jaw he raises him up, pulling him on to the couch with him, over him. Their lips touch in a clash of teeth, bodies flush as they embrace, kissing deeply, intensely, cocks sliding against each other, hips rocking.  
  
Suddenly, unexpectedly, Lavi, using his superior strength, reverses their positions. Komui lands with a soft huff on his back on the couch, he laughs breathlessly up at a smiling Lavi, who leans down, arms either side of Komui’s head and kisses him, light and slow; a promise of all good things to come.  
  
His skilled mouth works its way down the long, toned planes of the Supervisor’s body, finding all the sensitive spots, and lingering there.  
  
“Lavi...ahhhh...oh...yes.” He bites on his knuckle, eyes half closed, as he writhes under the touches of the man above him.  
  
Lavi takes him briefly in him perfect mouth, practiced whore, perfect whore, looking up through his lashes all the while as the man looses himself in the pleasure he is providing.  
I’m sure you realise whose cock I picture his lips are on. I unbutton my fly, sliding my long awaited hand along hot, over sensitive flesh, shuddering at my own touch. I bite my lip and return my attention to the couple. My breath hitches, Lavi’s head has descended to the point that all I see is the crown, Komui has his hips raised and is practically mewling as Lavi works his tongue and fingers in his arse. Stretching, preparing making him moan, beads of perspiration form on his forehead. Until he begs, the Supervisor of the Black Order, _begs_ a world class whore to fuck him, _now_ , like some street wench begging her client to take her.  
  
Lavi reaches behind him for the stoppered glass jar of oil on the side table and slicks his beautiful cock; he leans over Komui again, kissing him tenderly as his works his oil slick fingers quickly into his waiting hole.  
  
Komui, impatient, takes Lavi’s cock and, slapping his fingers aside, lines it up with his arse, “Please, I’ve missed having you in me, it's been so long, I can’t wait any longer.”  
Lavi smiles gently at him before obliging, sliding his length in slowly, watching Komui’s face as his lids flutter shut and he bits his lip, moaning. His hands claw at Lavi’s buttocks, dragging him further in. He lifts one leg, hooking it over Lavi’s shoulder, making him hiss as his cock slides in deeper.  
  
Lavi looks so God damn perfect; strong, beautiful hands gripping Komui’s hips as he thrusts in again, he is being leisurely and gentle, making it last. His hair partially covers his one eye; just a flash of green can be seen now and then. His lips are parted and the noises he is making leave me teetering on the brink. The man beneath him arches and is moaning and mewling incoherently. Lavi kisses the leg by his shoulder, gives a little lick behind the knee, and Komui cries his name. The little smile of pleasure that flickers over Lavi’s face is so fast it could have been imagined, a true flicker of him, I think to myself.  
  
“Lavi, fuck, please, faster. I want more of you. Oh God, please.”  
  
“Turn over.” Lavi’s tone is so commanding I start in the chair, almost capitulating myself. Ah, I think, at least Supervisor Lee conforms to one stereotype for such an original man.  
  
Lavi runs his fingers down Komui’s spine making him shiver, before entering him roughly.  
  
“Touch yourself.” He commands, relentlessly thrusting into Komui.  
  
“Yes...Oh, fuck... yes.” Pants Komui.  
  
I’m so close to coming, I have to grip myself hard. Commanding, demanding Rudhira, Holy fuck. He was perfect when he was all serving, and this just increases his perfection. As I said before, he can be all things to all men (and women), he is the perfect whore, and I’m now prepared to believe that all the rumours are true.  
  
He grabs a handful of the man’s silky purple hair and wrenches his head back and fucks him harder, growling like some savage beast.  
  
That does for me and I come hard, biting my lip enough to draw blood, my release spilling from me in hot slick lines, painting my hand and trousers.  
  
“Ahhhhh! Lavi, Lavi, aahha!” Komui comes as I do, all but collapsing on to the couch. Lavi supports his hips and thrusts erratically once, twice more, and is coming, spilling himself deep inside Komui, he growls incoherently though his release, just sighing out Komui’s name once, almost inaudibly at the end, one tear tracing its way down his cheek which he wipes quickly away with the back of his wrist.  
  
They tangle around each other kissing and stroking until they calm. Lavi lays with his head on Komui’s chest, stroking his abdomen and staring into the fire as the other man strokes his hair, occasionally kissing his crown.  
  
They lay comfortably, silently for some time, listening to the crackle and pop of the fire, the occasional shift of a log. When eventually they speak they share memories of Lavi’s time in the Order. Of their friends, and how they are keeping. Apparently Allen got lost for a full week in Africa; even I smile at this, knowing that Allen has a worse sense of direction than I do.  
  
Before long they lapse into silence again, and I realise that Komui has fallen asleep. I settle myself comfortably to watch what else might occur.  
  
                                    ****************************************  
LAVI DOES A BUNK & RIVER  
                                    *****************************************


	9. Chapter 9

I had been nearly dozing myself when I heard him stir. I was surprised to see him dressing, I was convinced he would stay ‘til morning.  
  
The sadness with which he tenderly placed a kiss to Komui’s brow and the hitch in his voice as he whispered goodbye, both sadden and anger me. I don’t want to see him sad, and I want his kisses for myself. Joyd takes advantage of my confusion, and springs up, my pulse quickens, my grin widens. In my moment of inattention as I strain against Joyd the shŏnen has gone. Bolted.  
  
Komui’s eyes have snapped open, he looks around him, searching, hoping; but seeing the door slightly open and the absence of Lavi’s clothes, his hope fades and he lets out a shuddering sigh.  
  
I’m still fighting my darkest side, my full Noah, I can’t lose control that much, I can’t. I have to retain some semblance of me; I can’t stand the unthinking animal that I become. I want to stay me. I want _him_ and Joyd, that aspect of me, would only rape him and kill him; I want to keep him for longer than the five minutes that would take.  
  
I stagger to my feet, still in control to a point. Joyd’s attention snaps to the man in front of me, and I feel my pulse race and my cock stir; saliva fills my mouth and I feel my control over my true Noah slip further from my grasp.  
  
My face splits in a grin and I begin to laugh, a steady mad chuckle as I step from the shadow. Komui’s head turns toward the sound, “Tyki Mi...” he starts to say surprised. In a flash I have him pinned against the cool marble of the fireplace, hand tight around his throat, my face an inch from his I snarl. An animal sound; wild, uncontrolled.  
  
His face is shocked, yes, but confusion is the overriding expression. “What? Why...? Why...here?” He chokes out.  
  
“Rudhira.” I snarl again. Fuck, Joyd is so close to winning I can barely talk. “Lavi. Want.” I shake my head like a dog coming out of the water, tying to make my brain work properly. I draw in a ragged breath. My dark side wants to fuck this man, kill him in the process and come in his corpse. A moan of desire and anguish escapes me. I press myself against the Supervisor, rubbing against him as he squirms trying to escape, kicks and blows land on me and I barely notice.  
  
No, no, no, _no, no, no,_ NO... I chant to myself, struggling. I can’t do this. I won’t do this. “NO!” I roar, throwing myself back, away from the human, hands over my face, as I fight. And win; well to a point. I need to leave. I need to get away to gain complete control again. But first I need to know more. I came hoping for information as much as titillation and I won’t be denied.  
  
Komui has recovered before me and is partially dressed. I can only assume it’s his scientific curiosity that has kept him in the room with me, with a deadly Noah having a psychotic episode, who has almost raped him.  
  
I stand panting for a moment.  
  
“What is he to you Lee?” “How long have you been here Mikk?” We ask at the same time.  
  
I refrain from answering. It doesn’t matter; is of no consequence.  
  
He sighs and buttoning his Black Order jacket says, “He is, beside my sister and the war, everything to me. There lies part of the problem.”  
  
I snarl again and take a pace back to prevent the flash of rage I feel becoming manifest.  
  
“That man, he cannot love, it’s not part of being a _Bookman_ and he feels he has cemented it though his years of whoring. For all that he has one of the largest hearts I have known. He believes Lavi to just be a Bookman persona, but, I wonder, one of those personas is _really_ him, why not this one. He is conflicted and good at ignoring it. I suspect the Lavi persona is to a great extent truly him; or at least who he has grown to become.” He shakes his head sadly. “I can’t take him away from his life. I can’t abandon my sister or the Order. I can’t leave the world to you and your kind Mikk.” The last is said with force, and I laugh at his passion. “What do you want with him Noah?” he asks.  
“I want him. I _will_ have him. No-one else.” I snap out. It’s still hard to formulate full sentences.  
  
“And what would you do with him? What would you give him? How long before you tired of him and discarded him? When would I receive the report of his violated, organ-less corpse, hanging from a tree?” He spits at me.  
  
“I... No. I couldn’t. Not... not him.”  
  
He looks incredulous. “Feelings Noah? What play is this? What is the Earl up to?”  
  
“Shut up.” I state. “Remember to whom you speak human. What I feel, _and yes we do feel_ , is not your business. How did you trick The Bookman?” I have advanced on him again, and raise my hand placing it to his chest. “Lie and you will be the organ-less corpse and your sister will be reading the report of your death.”  
  
“Fine. It was not quick but all it took was using several go betweens. The old panda can only be paranoid to a certain level and for him that means being sure to six degrees of separation that he knows exactly who the client is. I was the seventh. Also he has brokers for the Rudhira’s services in every country; they do the interviews if the old man isn’t in the same country at the time.”  
  
I look at him for a moment weighing his answer. “Very well.” I step away from him.  
  
“Tyki Mikk.” I turn to look at him. He is a remarkable man, even having faced defilement and death he stands tall and straight in his Black Order uniform. I note that, thinking to tell the Earl to keep a closer eye on him. “If I understand you correctly, let me ask you this: Are _you_ willing to give up your family and the war for him?”  
  
I stare at him for a moment, unblinking. “Never see him again, Komui Lee. It will be your death.” I say lazily. I walk away from him, through the external wall into the night, trying to hide the tremor in my hands.  
  
                                    *********************************  
  
Leaving the house and Komui behind I walk briskly away towards the river, my dark side slipping further from power, white side gaining ground with every step. Before I reach the water I am overcome and have to stop, leaning against a wall to prevent myself falling to my knees. It’s as though I am being ripped in two. Never since my awakening as a Noah has there been so much dissonance between the two aspects of me. I clutch at my head a slow moan escaping me. Why is this happening? A few weeks ago tonight would have been nothing more than another pleasurable evening. Now I’m experiencing jealously, possessiveness, longing for _affection_. All because of that pathetic whore, that stupid, weak human.  
  
The pain peaks, the noise I make isn’t human, and now I do drop to my knees. I think of the last time I experienced something akin to these emotions. I was wholly human, weak and feeble, young and stupid. A girl; yes it was over a girl...  
  
I feel Joyd writhe in my soul, not enjoying this experience, this torrent of emotions, any more than I am, but fighting, always fighting...for control, for freedom.  
  
I try to calm myself. Breathing, relaxing, and keeping his face in my mind.  
It works, the pain lessens. I slump to hands and knees in the ordure of the street, exhausted. Fuck that was hard.  
  
I need, _need,_ the Rudhira.  
  
                                    *****************************************  
  
Once I’m nominally in control of myself again I stagger to my feet. Clothes covered in muck. I run a hand over my face and through my hair. Sighing when I realise I’ve spread mud and worse over both.  
  
I decide to go home. Clan home. I could phase the dirt off myself but the level of concentration it would take to do so feels beyond me just now. All I want is to wash and slip into the dark oblivion of sleep.  
  
                                    *******************************************  
As I arrive in the hall of our palatial clan home Road skids to a halt, half way to jumping to embrace me, wrinkling her nose.  
  
“Uncle Tyki! What happened?!”  
  
I force a smile that I hope looks genuine.  
  
“Nothing to worry about. Just an unusual pleasure that got a little out of hand.”  
  
She cocks her head to the side, like a little bird; a vastly dangerous, psychotic bird; searching my face. Finally she says, “You need a bath.”  
  
“That’s my plan.” I reply as jovially as I can manage. “Where’s your father?” I ask as I walk past her.  
  
“Out collecting some fresh flesh for our darling Earl.”  
  
I leave her.  
  
After my bath, scrubbed clean, and shattered in more ways than one, I fall into bed. To my surprise sleep eludes me for some time.  
  
                                    ***********************************************  
LAVI WAKES UP, ACCIDENTALLY FOUND BY SHERYL.

BLOW JOB. MEETS THE EARL.  
                                    ************************************************


	10. Chapter 10

My sleep is deep and long and until the end, dreamless. Just before I wake I dream. I dream of a lean, warm body in my arms. Head on my chest. Our breathing in time. Silky soft red hair moves against my chin. I tilt my head down to smell the locks, inhaling deeply. The head tilts up, a vivid green eye search my face. Soft lips fringed with the faintest hint of stubble press to mine.  
  
I wake with a jolt, rocketing upright, clutching my chest. I am filled with a sense of loss and longing that is almost palpable. And yet I feel more whole. I am also resolved. I will find Lavi. I will offer him an alternative life. I will have him with me, as my lover; my love.  
  
                                    *****************************************  
TORTURE SCENE  
                                    *****************************************  
  
Sheryl knocks and enters without waiting for me answer. I have just come out of the bathroom and I’m naked, my hair damp. “Sheryl. How was your trip?” He allows his eyes to wonder over my body, unabashed.  
  
I throw my towel at him. “See something you like, _brother_?”  
  
He snorts, “My trip was successful, and I found some lovely toys for the Earl.” He sits on my bed and helps himself to my cigarettes. “But, what about you? My sweet Road told me you were looking for me, and that you came home in quite a state.”  
  
I turn my back on him as I chose my clothes. How much do I say to him. He is my brother, but how far can I trust him. Not far enough I decide. “I was looking for the Rudhira. I found him. I watched him with another client and, I’m not sure what happened, but I almost lost control of Joyd. I panicked and came home. You know I can’t handle the lack of me there is in Joyd, I’m not ready to lose myself to him. I don’t understand why I become some animal thing and the rest of us all remain sentient. Why can’t I integrate more completely? ” I sigh. “Anyway, I’m fine now, I just needed to sleep.”  
  
“And you are going to pursue him still? Even if he brings out that side of you?”  
  
“Of course. I wouldn’t live up to my name as the Noah of Pleasure if I didn’t pursue the ultimate whore, now would I? Now tell me what you have brought home with you.” I say as I steal a drag of the cigarette he has lit, allowing my naked thigh to press against his leg as I lean in for it; I just can’t prevent myself from teasing him. He takes a sharp breath.  
  
Before he can answer there is a knock at the door, a level three Akuma has come to inform me the Earl requires my presence. Ha! It must be a sixth sense he has (well given what he is he probably has more than six) for when I’m about to leave on my own business.  
I wave the level three away telling it I will be along when I’ve finished dressing.  
  
“Just be cautious Tyki. You know the Earl doesn’t like us getting too caught up in our own pursuits.” With that Sheryl leaves.  
  
                                    *************************************  
  
The Earl is in the dining room with Road, who is doing homework. Oh hells not ‘your mission should you choose to accept it is help Road with her homework’ again. I groan internally at this thought as I slip into a chair at the long table.  
  
“Ahhh! Tyki-pon.” He croons. He’s in a good mood.  
  
“Good day Earl, how goes the war?”  
  
“Well! Well! I have lots of lovely Akuma, and Lulu-bell destroyed some innocence before the Exorcists even arrived.”  
  
He steeples his fingers and looks over them at me.  
  
“You are recovered from your excesses.” It’s not really a question and he doesn’t give me time to answer, yet I nod acquiescence anyway.  
  
“Go to Venice for me. There have been reports of strange occurrences, shifting lights at night in the waters beneath an abandoned building. If it is innocence destroy it and you will be rewarded. I’ve been very pleased with your recent work. Off you go Tyki-pon. I have to help Road with her homework.” With that he turns his head from me, dismissing me.  
  
                                    ************************************  
(LAVI) MEET THE EARL  
                                    *************************************


	11. Chapter 11

Venice is a beautiful city; known for its lavish debauchery amongst the rich and bohemian in society. However she does not smell as delightful as she looks, even in the cooler weather of winter. That’s why I’m grateful for the rain when we arrive via the door Road opened for me. It is the middle of the afternoon but due to the weather the streets are deserted. I have a small group of Akuma in their human form with me.  
  
I lead the way towards the area of the city where the spectral lights have been seen. I allow the rain to pass through me; no point in getting wet if I don’t have to.  
  
The derelict house, when we reach it, is truly dilapidated, but you can see that it once was grand, tall and many roomed. Now its windows are empty, its paint peeling, the roof is falling in and it leans alarmingly towards the canal, the water of which has flooded its lower level.  
  
From the bridge over the canal I can clearly see the glittering play of rainbow light under the rain stirred water. It is rather beautiful.  
  
“Wait here,” I say to the Akuma, “this won’t take long.”  
  
I step through the door and into the hallway. I walk a few inches above what remains of the floor. Here and there are holes that go completely through, allowing the light up from the phenomenon, so that it plays along the mildewed walls and ceiling, the effect is mesmerising and I have to mentally shake myself to move on. I move towards the stairs and then allow myself to sink through the floor.  
  
Very quickly I am in the turbid waters of the Venice water ways and very glad that my abilities allow me to choose what I touch.  
  
The colour display is all the more beautiful under the water. The source is an opalescent sphere the size of an ostrich egg with strobing colours moving over its milky surface; it is spectacular. It is also without doubt innocence. As I close my gloved hand around it I feel, rather than hear, an explosion rock through the building and water. Ah, the Exorcists have finally arrived, I think. I debate momentarily if I should have a little fun taunting them with the lost innocence, destroying it before their eyes. I decide against it, my heart wouldn’t really be in it as all I want to do is find Lavi. I don’t know his location, the tease that was trailing him I re-absorbed while I was following him and I was not thinking clearly enough when he ran from Komui to set another after him.  
  
No, I need to find him and I have been delayed long enough on the Earl’s errands; it has been four days already since that night. I can’t lose him, not now. I close my fist around the innocence and crush it, when I open my fist the destroyed innocence mingles with the water and drifts away.  
  
I leave the Akuma with the Exorcists and using the Road’s door I return to Rome.  
  
Except it’s not Rome, its... well I’m not sure actually. I curse my ability to get lost. You see a sense of direction wasn’t something I needed down a mine, the ‘where’ was already decided by the overseer.  
  
I return to the ark, moving though it, searching for the correct door. I end up in several different countries before I finally come out in Rome, severely frustrated. Every hour is another where Lavi is potentially further from me.  
  
I return to the lodgings near the Vatican they were using when I last saw him, I don’t expect to find anything there but I need somewhere to start.  
  
To my delight and amazement I see the old Bookman entering the property, maybe they had further bookings in Rome and I’ve had nothing to worry about. I phase my way into the house feeling light with hope.  
  
When I entre he is talking to the house keeper and what I hear dismays me.  
  
“News?” the house keeper asks.  
  
“Nothing.” The Bookman shakes his head. “It seems that he truly has not been seen since I delivered him to the client last Wednesday. I have been to all the places he likes to visit, as you know. I’ve put out word on all the networks, and now today I have, against my better judgement, contacted Komui Lee at the Black Order, at least if he arrives there or is seen by their operatives I will find out.”  
  
“By the Will of God he will return soon.”  
  
“Humph! Stupid boy is costing me a fortune. I had several bookings lined up for this week alone. When he returns I’ll make him wish he had stayed lost!”  
  
I leave as quickly and as stealthily as I arrived. My heart is beating so it feels as if it would break my chest. He could be almost anywhere.  
  
I make me way home (only getting lost twice this time). I need to contact some of my informants and formulate a plan. I _will_ find him.  
  
                                    *******************************  
  
I cannot settle. My home, despite its size, feels like a prison, and I have no information on Lavi. It is as if he has disappeared into the aether. No-one in my vast network of informants, who move in the same debauched scene as I do, has seen neither hide nor hair of him.  
It is like the previous two years, except now I know who he is and two places he defiantly isn’t. Neither with the Bookman, nor with the Order.  
  
I take a mouthful of the wine in my hand, then throw the glass at the wall in frustration. At myself for letting my emotions and desires get so out of hand; I’m not only annoyed that I may not get the best whore for myself but that I _care_ about his welfare. My mind is running through all the accidents and incidents that could have befallen him.  
  
Frustration at myself for being so careless when he was with Lee that I let him go. I should have followed him. Or at the least set a Tease after him immediately. How could I not have thought? How could I let Joyd get so close?  
  
“Arrrrarhhhg!” I roar in anger at myself, hurling the table and the contents of its surface across the room. “Damn it! DAMN HIM! Fuck!”  
  
“Quite alright brother?”  
  
Fucking Sheryl again, it’s a wonder he doesn’t have my powers how he can so suddenly and silently appear at times.  
  
I stand with my back to him panting for a moment, and then run a hand through my hair, composing myself.  
  
“Fine. Thank you Sheryl. Can I help you?” I reply curtly.  
  
“Our Lord wants you. He’s pleased about your last job. Come on, and tuck your shirt in, he’s being a stickler for neatness today.”  
  
I tisk under my breath, but do as he suggests, tucking my shirt in my trousers and following him from the room.  
  
We walk along several corridors to a large room, devoid of mostly anything, some bolting points are set into the walls, floors and ceilings at intervals and to me it has the sense of some sadomasochists play room. I know I haven’t been to this room before, but given our nature, the house is ever changing, also, as I’ve said already, it’s really big, so there is every likely hood I have just never come across this room before.  
  
The Earl is stood in the centre of the room, holding the golem Lero by its handle, as if it were a usual umbrella.  
  
“Tyki-pon! You have pleased me greatly of recent weeks. You have had much success; securing new ‘clients’ and financiers, and now destroying a quite remarkable innocence. Well done. Well done!” He does a little pirouette, apparently to overcome with joy at my performance to contain himself. All I can think is I need to go; I need to get back out there and find that infernal human whore. But he is not finished.  
  
“Sheryl has been telling me you have been frustrated in your recent search for a certain prize.” He pauses.  
  
I nod “Yes Earl.”  
  
“Well I have a gift for you. A very special human that Sheryl procured when he was last out. He is very... _unusual_. And he has a _very_ talented mouth.” He croons.  
  
“Thank you Lord.” I bow with one hand over my chest.  
  
He turns to an Akuma standing nearby, “Fetch the human that was fished out of the river. I wish him to service our Lord Mikk to show my appreciation.”  
  
                                    *******************************  
LAVI NOT SEEN DAYLIGHT FOR A WHILE. OCCASIONALLY USED BY SHERYL. SUMMONED.  
                                    *******************************


	12. Chapter 12

I can’t breathe as they bring him in to the room, and I know the Earl and Sheryl will be watching my reaction, so much of our family life is based on tests of loyalty, thanks to the 14th.  
  
The dismay I feel at seeing him here, in the clutches of the family, so helpless, so resigned, nearly unmans me. I’m only kept standing by the relief that floods my body on seeing him alive. At least I know where he is, that he is alive and whole, even if he couldn’t be in a worse place for either of us.  
  
Every fibre of my being wants to go to him. To reassure him, comfort him, and I have to suppress my movements. I school my face into a lascivious leer. If I show I care for him; if I do what my instincts tell me to do, clutch him to me, snarling fiercely at my family, fight my way out of here, take him away from this, it would see our destruction.  
  
Instead, “You found him.” I breathe as if in amazement and wonder. “Where? _How?_ ” I turn to face Sheryl, smiling happily. “I truly thought I had lost track of him and doubted I would find him again for hells knows how long.”  
  
“He was fished out of the Tiber by one of our lowly operatives and I was in the area collecting... and, well, he just seemed too lovely to pass over. I didn’t entirely know how good a prize I had obtained until our master saw him. I’m glad to see you so _pleased_ brother.”  
  
“You can’t even imagine how pleased.” I turn to the Earl and drop to one knee, feeling that theatrics would be appropriate in these circumstances, “Thank you, Lord. This is the best possible reward I could be gifted.”  
  
He smiles widely, “Ah, Tyki-pon, you know it pleases me to see my family happy.” He waves his hand as if dismissing my thanks as pointless. He has had Akuma bring comfortable chairs into the room, and he and Sheryl move to settle themselves on them.  
  
The Akuma holding Lavi throws him roughly at my feet, but he quickly rights himself. He is blindfolded and his wrists are bound behind his back. Once he is steady on his knees he tilts his head up as if he can sense me before him.  
  
He seems resigned to this treatment. The compliant whore, the captured soldier knowing how sparse his options currently are.  
  
I want to comfort him, I want to take him away to somewhere safe, but that would be infinitely stupid, and we would both die. I will have to take my “reward”, enjoy it like a good boy. Hell, like my normal self; like I consistently do. Usually I would relish this; not just fucking some humans mouth but showing myself off in front of my family.  
  
 _Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit._  
  
This is not how I wanted to first feel his mouth on me. This is not how I wanted to re-introduce myself to him.  
  
Yet...and yet...I can’t help the fission of desire that flames through me seeing him on his knees before me, lips slightly parted, head tilted towards me. His hands tied behind his back make the muscles of his chest strain against the thin fabric of his shirt. His hair, his beautiful hair, falls over the fabric of his blindfold like ripples of crimson silk. I wonder does it feel as soft. Before I realise it my fingers are carding through it, teasing out the tangles, rubbing the satin strands between my fingers. I hear myself sigh and see a slight frown crease Lavi’s brow.  
  
A low moan escapes my lips; a moan of desire and longing. I am so aroused, so desperate for him. My hands fist his hair, jerking his head back. He grimaces at the sudden discomfort, lips paling as he presses them into a thin line. I growl, a feral sound, low and continuous. The grin that splits my face is inhuman and the growl becomes a chuckle, then a laugh.  
  
I drag him up by my grip on his hair, until he is stood in front of me, balanced on his toes, grimacing at the pain of my hand pulling his hair, my hold so tight the skin of his scalp is blanched. I slowly lap my tongue from the angle of his jaw to the corner of his eye, capturing a tear that has welled there due to the pain in his scalp; tasting him, marking him. “Hello, Lavi.” I breathe into his ear, voice horse with my lust for him.  
  
I allow my control to slip a little. This may be the safest play for both of us; defile him and enjoy it; stay true to form and hope that that will be enough to keep the secret of my _feelings_ for him from my family’s sharp eyes. Ensure our safety, at least for the time being. Buy myself time, time to plan how the _holy fucking hell_ I will get one of the most desirable prisoners we have held for some time away from their clutches _without_ getting us both killed.  
  
Now I truly know that I want to offer him a new life and start the hard work of convincing him I can be more than he perceives me to be. Maybe even more than I believe I can be. That I can control my Noah instincts. That I have something to offer him.  
  
The hardest job of all will be attempting to repair even a fraction of the damage done to him over the years.  
  
With one hand wrapped around his throat but without compressing his windpipe, I lift him off his feet; a low growl rumbling in my chest. I rip his shirt through him, tossing it aside, my eyes never leaving his body. Joyd is there, behind my eyes, alert but not in control, nor pushing for it, instead just waiting to see what we will do. Held in check, I presume, between my will and the innocence in Lavi’s tattoo. I wonder again if he is aware it is there.  
I take a moment to survey him, to appreciate the beauty of his form. It is as perfect as it was before his treatment at the Archbishop’s. I cock my head to one side; in fact more perfect. The scars I remember over his torso have gone. This puzzles me, but I dismiss it as a conundrum for later.  
  
I lean my face towards his neck as if to inhale his scent and breath against his ear, quieter than a whisper, “I am sorry, Lavi.”  
  
“Finally I have you to myself shŏnen.” I say loudly. “To think all those times we danced in battle, and I never knew you were the prize I so desired. Who would have thought that the pious little Exorcist, the studious Bookman’s apprentice, would be the world’s best gigolo.” I snort disdainfully, “I hope for your sake you are as good as rumour has it or your time with us will be short and painful; and end brutally. Do we understand each other little whore?” I shake him once when he doesn’t react.  
  
Laughing bitterly he chokes out, “I suppose I should feel lucky then that I am as good as they say, for all the good it will do me.” He turns his head away as much as he can and says softly, “And I’m no Exorcist, not anymore.”  
  
“Whatever. I expect my reward to be the best experience of my life so far or, if it pleases the Earl, I’ll rip your heart from your chest.” I force him back to his knees, my grin splits my face. My arousal is intense and apparent to everyone in the room. I expect Sheryl is practically salivating. I laugh manically grabbing Lavi’s hair again and forcing his face into my still covered groin, rubbing the proof of my desire against him. So well trained is he that he reciprocates; nuzzling against my hardness making it harder still. My laughter becomes breathless and for a moment I fear I will come from this alone, and if that were to happen I’d never hear the end of it from Sheryl.  
  
“Enough!” I yank his hair hard, dragging his face away from my crotch, the fabric of which is damp with saliva and the first welling of my release. I chuckle breathlessly, running a hand through my hair in an attempt to regain my composure. Keeping my fist in his hair I force his head further back, cording the muscles of his neck. With one shaking hand I open the buttons of my fly, an unnecessary procedure given my powers, but it gives me a few moments more to compose myself. The cool air hits my cock making me shudder, and I gently run my hand over the hot, oversensitive skin, biting my lip.  
  
Rubbing the wet head of it over his lips, glossing them with fluid, I say, “Open your mouth.” He complies wordlessly, and I push past his lips slowly, gently; he flicks his tongue around the tip, tasting me, I feel myself twitch and my breath hitches. I loosen my grip on his hair allowing his head more freedom, as I push on testing how much of me he can swallow. I am pleased to find he can take all of me with little issue, not an easy feat. I draw in a gasp as he sucks hard, moving his head and hollowing his cheeks. His tongue laps and writhes against my flesh, varying the pressure and pleasure.   
  
He truly is talented. Heat builds in my abdomen and crackles in my blood. I look down on him from lidded eyes and my heart stutters in my chest. His cheeks are flushed below the fabric of the blindfold, his lips, stretched around my cock, are moist and red. He is so beautiful. Forgetting myself I cup his cheek and rub my thumb over it, making him falter slightly in his work, and bringing me back to myself enough to remember the danger we could be in.  
  
His skill is without comparison, he knows just how to bring one to the brink repeatedly without taking him over too soon. I just wish he wasn’t so compliant. Not because I always like it rough, but because I don’t want to feel like the spirit has gone from him. He seems to have surrendered to the situation. Where has his fight gone; where is the defiant Exorcist.  
  
I feel a flash of anger sear through me; anger at him, at myself, at my fucking _family_ ; I can almost hear Joyd laughing at me, or am I the one laughing. The world around me shrinks to nothing more than that of Lavi and his mouth on my cock. I fist his hair tightly in both hands, moving with him, tugging him, faster, harder, pushing deeper. He moans around me; in discomfort or in feigned pleasure I don’t know; neither am I concerned any longer.   
  
Saliva and pre-come slick his chin and he looks divine, like some debauched angle, on his knees sucking the cock of the devil; I know it is me laughing now. I tip my head back and holding his head still, fingers tips slipping just into his brain without my realisation, I fuck his mouth; and he takes it, the muscles of his throat contracting against my hardness.  
  
My laugh is replaced by a stead penetrating growl, as my orgasm builds. So close, so _fucking_ close. The heat coiling in my groin grows, I pull his head away, and he sways on his knees, panting. I want to mark him, the animal in me wanting to lay claim to him with my seed. I stroke my hand rapidly over my cock, an inhuman growl escapes my lips as my orgasm rips through me, painting Lavi’s face and bruised red lips with white; staining the green of his blindfold, and adding white highlights to his hair. I fall to me knees gasping, almost choking on my moans, one hand on his shoulder to steady myself. “Fuck.” I say, raising my head slightly to look at him, at the stain of me on him, as I do his tongue flicks out, running slowly over his lips, tasting me, cleaning them of me. “Fuck.” I say again.  
  
Buttoning my fly, I sprawl on the floor, eyes lidded, enjoying the slowly waning waves of what truly was the best fucking head I have ever had.  
  
Someone sits down near my head and lights a cigarette. I crack one eye open as the cigarette is handed to me.  
  
“Good isn’t he.” It Sheryl of course, his pupils dilated with lust and his cock tenting his trousers. “I may have another go,” He inclines his head towards the Earl, “If you don’t mind?” The Earl shrugs.  
  
“Words fail me brother. No wonder he is so sort after. Thank you again, Lord.” I manage. “I could get use to that.” I smile crookedly.  
  
I stay talking for a time; all the while Lavi stays as I left him, dripping, knelt in the centre of the room. I try to keep my gaze away from him, as though he is almost forgotten. When I excuse myself and leave the room I hear Sheryl follow me.  
  
In the hall he calls me, “Tyki.” I turn to face him. “You didn’t tell me the Rudhira was this man; the Exorcist. You must have known, must have recognised him?!” He looks puzzled. “Whatever your reasons, brother, you must be careful, His patience is strained at moment and you know He will never truly trust any of us, not after what happened with the 14th.”  
  
I smile benignly, “There was nothing nefarious in my actions Sheryl. I just wanted to have my fun with my obsession, without making it about this war. Now we have him here at our disposable...” I shrug, “Well, no more distraction... as long as I can get some work done between fucking his perfect little mouth that is.”  
  
Sheryl laughs at the thought and seems placated, “Very well.” He looks me in the eyes, “Let’s have some fun with him together this evening. What do you think?”  
  
“Of course.” I turn and walk away, cursing silently at my luck and thinking that Sheryl is right to warn me; if even he suspects me of something then I need to be on my guard.

 


End file.
